


The Blood Of The Dark Soul

by HomestuckEpilogueApologist



Category: Dark Souls III
Genre: A General Bad Time, Amnesia, Bestiality, Blood and Gore, Corpses, Cunnilingus, Demon Sex, Demons, F/F, F/M, Gore, Multi, Necrophilia, Oral Sex, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sexual Violence, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23168260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HomestuckEpilogueApologist/pseuds/HomestuckEpilogueApologist
Summary: This project intends to create a product worth crankin' it to, and add on a new fetish with every successive chapter. If you don't like the sound of it, don't read it. There's some serious shit in here, dawg, and it's fair you know first.Also, this wouldn't have been possible without Daniel, Grayson, and others who understandably wish to remain unnamed. They're going to Hell just as I am.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. The Age of Fire

_In the Age of Ancients, the world was unformed, shrouded by fog._  
_A land of gray crags, Archtrees and Everlasting Dragons. But then there was Fire, and with fire came disparity._  
_Heat and cold, life and death, and of course, light and dark._  
_Then from the dark, They came, and found the Souls of Lords within the flame._  
_Nito, the First of the Dead._  
_The Witch of Izalith and her Daughters of Chaos._  
_Gwyn, the Lord of Sunlight, and his faithful knights._  
_And the Furtive Pygmy, so easily forgotten._  
_With the strength of Lords, they challenged the Dragons. Gwyn's mighty bolts peeled apart their stone scales. The Witches weaved great firestorms. Nito unleashed a miasma of death and disease. And Seath the Scaleless betrayed his own, and the Dragons were no more._  
_Thus began the Age of Fire. But soon the flames will fade and only Dark will remain. Even now there are only embers, and man sees not light, but only endless nights._  
_And amongst the living are seen, carriers of the accursed Darksign. Yes, indeed. The Darksign brands the Undead._  
_And in this land, the Undead are corralled and led to the north, where they are locked away, to await the end of the world... This is their fate._  
_Only, in the ancient legends it is stated, that one day an undead shall be chosen to leave the undead asylum, in pilgrimage, to the land of ancient lords, Lordran._


	2. The Chosen Undead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduction. Long and Boring.

The rattle of old hinges disturbs the jaded sleep of a nearly Hollowed individual, dressed in the garb of a Knight, though their purpose has escaped them. On the merits of forgotten instinct, their hand grips the hilt of a dull sword. No foe rises to the offer of combat, a corpse answering the empty threat instead. It strikes the ground with a lifeless thump, a key around its neck jangling. The sunken, emaciated body holds no secrets within the state it occupies. The Knight looks to the ceiling, an opened grate the origin of the disturbance. From above, a brother in arms absconds, a fellow Knight seemingly interested in the welfare of our focus.

The grate falls closed as the fellow leaves, the investigation of the corpse left by them the only other prerogative. The Knight stands, and crassly pulls the key free of the body's neck. In this stone prison's cell, the key could only serve the purpose of escape from this Asylum, and so it does. The lock in the decrepit iron door leading out yields to the key, and the obstacle creaks loudly enough to wake the dead as it swings open to reveal a similarly entropic hall. The Knight steps out of their previous stockade, attracting the ire of a Hollow, the final step in the non-life of those within Lordran. Though mindless and aggressive, their remaining lucidity means their post is kept, defense and offense alike.

The Hollow, grasping a broken and chiseled blade, rushes the Knight with deadly intent. It lets loose a wild swing, which the defending Knight quickly blocks, staggering the undead shell. The Knight steps back, and drives their sword forward, ending the Hollow's life before it recuperates from the parry. The Hollow falls to the ground in a heap, a rasping whine escaping from its body as a wisp-like mass emanates from within. It flows through the air, through the spaces between the armor of the Knight, and through their very essence, into their Soul. Though small, they can nearly quantify the strength that returns to their weak body.

It does not take long for the Knight to cut through the proceeding Hollows, ascending a ladder past the hall that leads only back to imprisonment. At the top of the climb lays a courtyard, several floors above having a view of the place. In the center of the grassy, stone-surrounded field, a sword is driven into the ground. Where the blade enters the earth, ash and fragments of bone smolder, awaiting a spark to once again send it into a crackling, warming frenzy. The Knight obliges the silently calling coals, lighting the flame that soothes their doubts and cures their underlying ailments. While their undeath won't be so easily lifted, they find solace in the flame, and a home in it's warmth.

Before them, on the opposite side of the field, is a large door. Behind it lays more mystery. Weapon in hand and drive in their heart, the Knight pushes the door open, met with an open-roofed court. They step in, assailed by a shadow from above. Before they're allowed a reaction, a giant demon wielding a club of gnarled wood and flame collides with the floor, cracking it and sending plumes of dust and pulverized stone into the air. The Knight regains their bearings a fraction before the great demon brings the massive club down, further fracturing the area and crushing a collection of pots as the Knight rolls to safety. They make a break for a suddenly revealed exit, and as the Demon swings the weapon at them, they leap through the doorway just as it closes, stopping entrance, but exit as well. 

After their breathing steadies and legs regain strength, the Knight stands and takes in their surroundings. Their escape has led them to a sewer of sorts, another Bonfire ahead. They light this one as well, and once again feel the calm wash over them. Respite had, they progress further, dropping down into ankle-deep water and wading through it to the room's only exit, their way guided by a wall-mounted torch. The exit leads upwards, to the second floor surrounding the very same field they had been in minutes prior. The Knight retraces their journey in thought, their imagination concealing a rapidly encroaching threat. 

A Hollow, wielding a small blade, rushes them from behind, their reaction moments too late. The Hollow drives the dagger into the space between the plates of iron armor, cutting into the Knight's side and drawing forth great pain. With a kick, the Hollow is driven back, falling onto the floor in front of a set of stairs, leading up once more. It hisses in anger at the Knight, unwittingly alerting another mindless dreg at the top of the staircase. The dreg pushes forth a large iron ball, a prepared defense against attackers that never came. The ball rolls down the stairs, hitting the ground and crushing the Hollow before colliding with the wall opposite the stairs. The Soul of the Hollow is absorbed by the Knight as they had done with the previous, though it does nothing to ease their agony.

When the rubble finds a place to rest, the coughing and sputtering of an injured man can be heard through the newly-opened hole in the wall. Sensing no other option than to seek the source, the Knight trudges forward, braced against the wall due to their rapidly weakening state. They climb through the hole, and as the dust settles, see a familiar figure. The same Knight that allowed for their escape now lays against the wall, the armor of their torso dented inwards at a highly unnatural angle where rubble had been thrown into him. He, as well, notices the amicable individual. Clearly mustering his strength to do so, he speaks.

"…Oh, you… You're no Hollow, eh? Thank goodness… I'm done for, I'm afraid… I'll die soon, then lose my sanity… I wish to ask something of you… You and I, we're both Undead... hear me out, will you?" His words, though strained, hold the cadence of trust and hope. Knowing naught of another option, and with no purpose to serve of their own, the Knight answers affirmatively. "…Regrettably, I have failed in my mission… But perhaps you can keep the torch lit. There is an old saying in my family… 'Thou who art Undead, art chosen In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords. When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead thou shalt know.' …Well, now you know, and I can die with hope in my heart. Oh, one more thing…Here, take this." 

The man weakly pulls a small bottle, glowing a dull green, from a pack at his side. "An Estus Flask, an Undead favourite. Oh, and this…" Along with the flask is a key, ‘F2’ carved into it. "…Now I must bid farewell. I would hate to harm you after death, so, go now…" The man softens himself, slinking down further and beginning to fade away. The Knight begins to step away, and climb through the hole in the wall whilst grasping their wound while their body cries out in pain. From behind, they hear the final words of the man spoken. "…And thank you…" is all he says before he slumps over, the soul within him leaving his body and joining with the Knight.

Exhausted just from their exit from the man's final resting place, the Knight has no choice but to fall to the ground, resting on the wall beside the hole. Too far from the healing warmth of the bonfire, and too weak to make it due to their loss of blood, they can almost see their options running thin. They feel the Estus Flask in their hand, their attention going to it. A distant memory recalls their power, though only the word of the now-dead man serves as their current thoughts. With their remaining strength, they open the visor of their iron helmet. They pour the contents of the flask into their mouth, drinking the sour, unwelcoming liquid as a final action before it all ends.

However, rather than the cold embrace of further Hollowing, the pain in their side subsides, and the wound is felt rapidly closing where they sit. A vigor spreads through their body, banishing the previous weakness and returning them to a full and complete strength. However, strength is not the only thing the Estus brings. Strangely, it's accompanied by an unfamiliar spark of fire deep in the Knight's stomach, a sudden growing heat in their loins, the temperature of their body rising exponentially as well. While a bit of their mind and purpose is restored, brought with it is the burning passion of the past, and it's long-lost calls give the Knight a feverish burn throughout their body, though still the most intense within their genitals.

The desperate need to alleviate the problem grows. To reduce the heat, the Knight begins pulling off their chestplate with an uneven fervour. It comes apart, falling to the ground with a clang and a rattle. The gauntlets fall next, and their hands grasp the sides of the helmet covering their face. The neckpiece comes apart, loosening the other pieces, allowing it to slip off their head. They throw it away, and it bounces once before beginning to fall down a set of stairs nearby. Shoulder-Length brown hair falls in sweat and dirt caked strands around the Knight's head, and their effort in removing the armor has worked them into deep breaths. 

Their chest heaves as much-needed air is inhaled, breasts no larger than an average handful hidden underneath a rough cloth shirt. Though none can see it, the Knight's grey skin glows from the sweat coating it. Their facial features, though slightly contorted due to their Hollowing, are recognizable as attractive, though of imperceptible origin due to the grey and veined skin. She could be described as slim, though obvious muscle was visible when skin was bare. When her lungs have settled and composure returns, the Knight stands, now ready to continue, though the burn still remains. The scraps of memory and cognition returned to her by the Estus revealed several things- part of her past, her status, her name, and her nigh-endless passion. Well, that may be the wrong word, so let's stop beating around the bush.

Alianor of the East was primed and ready to fuck.


	3. Pants, Off, Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alianor fucks corpses. Don't do Estus, kids.

It took no time for Alianor to stand, and begin her trek forward. If she could restore her human form, by reversing her Hollowing, she'd most likely find solace from her accursed horniness. Though it wasn't a guarantee, the hope was there. From the little she could recall, she was a Knight and Noble Defender of the last few lucid beings within the Parish, a settlement that began to fall to the undead when her Hollowing began. It was that Hollowing that lead to a sudden lack of self control, and a vast number of sex crimes too vile and too copious to list here. It was the combined onset of undeath and unspeakable degeneracy that landed her a spot in the Undead Asylum, nearly a decade ago. Though, time bears no meaning any longer, so it hardly affected her life of twenty-five years. As such, Alianor followed these scraps, hoping to find answers in her humanity, but that humanity wouldn't be found if she didn't slay the big motherfucker with the fiery club.

Ascending the stairs that the deadly iron ball rolled down and slaying the Hollow at the top, Alianor finds that the key gifted to her by the now-dead man unlocks the gate that would have impeded her. The burning need for release fires up brighter, nearly causing her to double over, though she steadies. Ahead of her is a walkway overlooking the steep cliffs of the Undead Asylum. She slays the sword-wielding Hollow on the walkway, looking ahead. A large gate made of fog is guarded by two Hollows, and a smaller entrance to the left of the fog gate is present. Alianor does what she does best, despite the ever-growing lust, and slays the closer Hollow.

The other fires an arrow, barely cutting through the cloth of Alianor's shirt, and slightly cutting her left arm. This doesn't fade her, and with a heavy downward swing, she cleaves the skull of the Hollow. Her does are vanquished, and the need grows further, nearly unbearable. A thought creeps into her head, which at first disgusts her. Those Hollows are still human, and most are male… Though, she'd killed them all. Her only option is to bear it, and traverse the fog with her loins still-

Suddenly, the moan of an Undead echoes through the door to the left of the fog gate. This may be the luckiest or unluckiest moment of Alianor's life, but she doesn't care much. She wants that dick, corpse or not. Slowly, she approaches the door, sticking her head through carefully to survey the room. It's empty, save for two wall sconces and a locked gate at the end of the room. Inside is a Hollow wielding a sword and shield, chest and head protected by armor, but hips and under simply covered by a cloth. No time to waste, there's holes to fill. Alianor rushes forwards, bashing the Hollow's chest with the hilt of her sword, knocking into the ground. It's sword clatters away, and it drops the shield in its daze. 

Alianor kicks her steel boots off, undoing the knee and thigh protection, and throwing the pieces to the side. Now, all of her armor is gone. Bad defensive choice, but now all she wears are a pair of cotton trousers and a white cloth shirt. Wasting no time, she drops her pants, revealing a lack of undergarments. She's already soaking wet, her juices running down her thighs in droplets. The Hollow fruitlessly sits up, but Alianor kicks it back down, and drops to her knees above it. She tears the cloth from it's hips, hoping to find something impressive. Luckily, the Hollow certainly packed heat as a normal human, and that did not change after undeath claimed it's body. Though it's flesh has turned the grey color of decomposition, and the veins of the tool have gone varicose, Alianor lowers herself until her outer lips are pressed against the Hollow's member, and she begins slowly grinding back and forth along the length of the Hollow, hoping to elicit an erection from the greyed, emaciated being. 

Her streak of luck continues, as the Hollow's cock hardens in response to her gyrating. It's easily 14 inches while fully erect, as hoped for. Alianor grabs hold of the shaft, positions the head until pressed to her entrance, and plows downwards onto it with a groan. The Hollow isn't doing much, as it's not able to sit up with Alianor supporting herself on it's chest plate, so it's kind of sitting there making throat noises while Alianor rides it's dick. And rude she does, moving upwards only to push back down until she's taken the full length to the hilt, like a trustworthy and time-weathered sheath. The burning fire inside subsides only slightly with each thrust, causing her to double her spread when the realization that she needs more hits.

It does not take long for her to come close to orgasm, her walls tightening suddenly and causing the Hollow to make a noise that could possibly be construed as a pleasure sound. Probably not, though. However, the base biological responses remain in effect, and as the thrusts continue, the Hollow suddenly climaxes, shooting the last stocks of its semen into Alianor as she cums herself, pushing down fully and crying out loudly. She pushes down a tad too hard, and the already old and rusted armor of the Hollow crushes inwards, forcing it's malleable ribs against its lungs. As she basks in the throes of her pleasure, the Hollow suffocates, and before she's fully recuperated, it's body dissipates and leaves it's soul as all other bodies do. Alianor falls to the floor, breathing heavily as the undead's final ejaculate leaks from her body. 

She shakily stands after a few minutes, and retrieves her pants. The burning has subsided for the most part, but is still present. Grabbing her sword from where she left her boots, she continues on to the fog gate. The only thing left to do is traverse it, and face the Demon on the other side. Alianor walks through, to find herself on a balcony overlooking the familiar battlefield. The demon, rotund and dry much like an overweight lizard, still wields the fiery club it did before. Two small wings, impossible to see beforehand due to the confusion, sprout from the demon's back. While Alianor makes these observations, she accidentally slips on a stone, and plunges downwards. The demon turns as she does, and her sword voided with it's right eye, destroying it. She tumbles off of the demon, landing hard on the ground below. 

She quickly rolls away, to find herself facing the demon from about 30ft away. The demon focuses after the pain subsides slightly, and prepares to swing downwards with the club. However, it stops, and Alianor notices quickly. The demon sniffs the air wildly, before turning to Alianor, and throwing the club to the ground. She tries to evade it, though it manages to grab her around the waist with a large hand. It raises her to its face, and sniffs her directly. It goes rigid as it does, seemingly having found what it was looking for. Suddenly, a slightly wet sound can be heard. Alianor looks down, to see the prehensile penis of the demon, thin yet long for the size of the beast, exiting the demon's body. Looks like the smell of another creature's cum got it riled up into alpha mode.

Alianor is fine with this. If anything, being fucked by a demon means her libido subsiding for some time. The tentacle-like appendage leaks a steady amount of fluid, holding a loose shape similar to a lengthy, self-lubricating tongue. Still grasped in the beast's hand, Alianor doesn't try to fight it, not to suggest that she would, or that she could. She's lowered downwards until she's held at half the creature's height. The slick appendage guides its way to Alianor's groin area, and like a rope, wraps around her upper leg, pulling downwards and tearing the simple pants she wears. The fabric is easily ripped into two pieces, which fall until hanging from her ankles. Alianor's breathing has picked up considerably, the anticipation building within her.

The Demon's smooth, eel-like bellend teases at her entrance by moving in vertical strokes. By the time the monster decides to push inside, Alianor is already incredibly wet from the stimulation. The appendage breaches past her cervix, and doesn't stop pushing until it presses against the back of her womb, filling her completely. The demon begins sliding in and out, always to the absolute limit, with surprisingly gentle movements. To describe it as 'sensual' would be inaccurate, something like 'apprehensive' being more true, as if it knew of its strength and was opposed to injuring Alianor. The leaking fluids have not let up, and with every slide out of Alianor's womb, more spills out of her in ever-increasing torrents. The Demon's pace increases suddenly, pushing slightly harder as it abandons the prior care. 

Alianor's been reduced to a moaning mess, experiencing immense pleasure from being used as what amounts to a fucktoy. With every thrust of the sopping demonic tentacle, her most sensitive spots are assaulted, sending shockwaves through her body. With every push to the limit of her insides, her stomach bulges outwards slightly. Though the Demon hasn't noticed or doesn't care, she's reached orgasm twice, exponentially increasing her sensitivity each time. The Demon increases the speed of it's thrusts until it's writhing member begins to occasionally tense, Alianor's focus being broken every time it does. All at once, the Demon roars, burying itself as deep as Alianor's body allows, and pumps nearly a liter of chaos-energy based cum directly into her womb. 

Her conscious mind momentarily short-circuits as it does, and a lesser woman would've fallen unconscious, but this was not a lesser woman. The demon drops Alianor while lost in it's orgasm, and she hits the ground hard. The demon is knocked off balance due to its sexual confusion, falling and striking it's head on the stone wall behind it. The weight of the demon falling causes a ceiling block to dislodge, which falls directly downwards onto it's head. It dissipates into souls, leaving behind only a large key. The residual energy flows into Alianor, and lifts her from the exhaustion caused by being fucked by a demon. Not even she could just bounce back from that, though thankfully, she'll not have to rest on the floor of an asylum while leaking demon semen.

Alianor shakily stands, and carefully makes her way to the key. She takes it, simply holding it due to no longer having any pants. She enjoyed that encounter more than she'd like to admit, which is good, because there's no one around to admit it too. Using the key to unlock the large door on the other side of the battlefield (more like a fuckfield due to the lack of an actual battle), Alianor trudges onwards, praying that a bonfire will be nearby. She's instead met by only a cliff face, and a stone outcropping overlooking the world below the asylum. On legs rapidly weakening as the energy from the Asylum Demon is spent, Alianor stands on the precipice, overlooking the distant kingdom of Anor Londo. A distant memory flutters through her mind, though she can't grasp it. Her thoughts are disturbed by the caw of a bird echoing through the empty skies. Before her, the bird dives, claws extended. It grabs for her, but too low. Fruitlessly, Alianor grabs for it, only managing to tear out a handful of black feathers, and tumbles off the precipice to the ground hundreds of miles below. As she falls, she cries an expletive too vile to be rewritten here, and cried for too long to be convenient.

If this were a video game, something like "You Died" would appear on screen. But this isn't a video game, Alianor is fucking dead. 

Nah, I'm just joking. Alianor awakens, sitting at the foot of the bonfire she had lit before her encounter with the Asylum Demon. She vaguely remembers falling from a cliff, but is left confused as to why. She makes her way to the cliff face past the Demon's lair, noting that any evidence of its existence is gone. She steps out, looking upon the kingdom of Anor Londo from a cliff, experiencing such thick deja vu that you could be crushed by it. The call of a bird sounds, and Alianor is dive-bombed by a large crow, successfully grabbing her under the arms and lifting her into the air. Though slightly panicked at first, she has little choice but to let the beast carry her forward, towards Anor Londo, and towards whatever the future may hold.

Spoiler Alert: the future holds many, many dicks.


End file.
